


Last and First Night

by greygerbil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Felix Alexius Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: As he sits at his best friend's bedside waiting for him to pass, Dorian goes once more through his memories and regrets. However, Felix may not have reached the end of his road yet.





	Last and First Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).

“I’m sorry, Dorian.” Vivienne rose from the chair by Felix’s bedside, straightening her dress as she did. “If it had worked, he would have woken up by now. It appears we were unsuccessful.”

“You did warn us it was a long shot,” Dorian said after swallowing once to make absolutely sure his voice would be steady. Vivienne had hoped that they would be able to make use of the spell outlines Alexius had been working on before he got recruited by the Venatori, which Dorian had found with his belongings. Combined with her experience with healing magic and Felix’s remarkable longevity, which spoke of an uncommon resilience against the taint, they might have been just enough to bolster him against the blight. “He didn’t have much more time, anyway. He knew that.”

He’d have had a few more months, of course, a voice in the back of Dorian’s head whispered. Enough time to go home, say goodbye to friends, die comfortable in his own bed rather than on a pallet in some windy, dust-covered chamber in an abandoned fortress in the middle of nowhere. If Dorian hadn’t talked him into this, he might have had that much.

It was a great surprise that Felix had survived the way here, weak as he’d already been, after he got caught in the attack on Haven with the Inquisition the evening before he was suppose to leave. That, Dorian figured, was what had made him so uncharacteristically, stupidly hopeful as he convinced Felix to try just one more cure. Maybe it was the presence of the Inquisitor, too. You got used to miracles around here.

It was about time something brought Dorian back to earth. It would have had to happen sooner or later.

“I will leave you now,” Vivienne said.

Dorian didn’t trust himself to answer, so he just nodded his head and took his place on the rickety chair. Felix looked grey as the unwashed sheets spread over the straw. His arms laid slack by his side. Dorian could barely see his chest rise and fall with breath anymore.

It probably made no difference whether he sat here or not. Felix would slip from sleep to unconsciousness to final rest. Still, in case he did open his eyes, Dorian didn’t want him to just be staring into the cold darkness. Too many of the others here in Skyhold had heard of his and Vivienne’s attempt, besides, and would question him if they saw him. Dorian wasn’t sure how many times he could pretend to be fine with the fact that Felix was dying a few dozen feet away, say that he’d been on borrowed time, that he’d lived longer than anyone had any right to with the taint, that he’d known it was coming. All those things were true, but that didn’t help.

Of course, Felix had always been the only one truly able to accept that he was on his way out. His father had spiralled out of all moral and reason; Dorian had fled, as he always did when things got difficult, and drank and fucked, pretending that the years-long infatuation with Alexius’ son was meaningless because it had never come to fruition.

His frustration with Alexius had already been growing for weeks before he’d snapped at him and told him he had to give up on Felix, the event that led up to him leaving – but he wondered if he wouldn’t have stayed there, too, seething and worrying but working at the same doomed task, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Felix had released him from it.

_It was past midnight when the door to Dorian’s study opened. By now, he knew the quiet footsteps and muffled whine of the hinges, produced by one who knew the building well enough to move the door just so that Alexius wouldn’t hear it upstairs._

_“Your father will tie you to the bed if he hears you’re streaking about at this hour,” Dorian told Felix without looking up._

_“I fear he’ll do that soon, anyway.”_

_A goblet of wine was placed next to his papers on the wooden surface._

_“I know my father is putting you to task to cure me,” Felix continued. “And I also know healing spells aren’t what you came here to study. The least I can do is provide some distraction.”_

_“I’ve never said no to pretty men carrying wine,” Dorian muttered, dropping the quill._

_It was difficult to look at Felix these days, but he forced himself to do it, anyway. He’d grown pale and shaved off his long dark curls as they’d started to fall out in bushels. It wasn’t that Dorian didn’t think him handsome anymore, but he was obviously very sick and that was never a good look on anyone. His smile, though, was still the same._

_“Is that plum?” Dorian asked, taking a sip of the wine as he watched Felix sit down on the sofa opposite his desk. He turned in his chair._

_“Yes. Antivan.”_

_Dorian took another sip. Silence stretched between them and the overflowing bookcases, the stacks of magical essences and stones and writings now abandoned in favour of dried herbs and old texts on the blight._

_“I wanted to speak to you,” Felix said, finally._

_“Well, you are talking. That’s a good start.”_

_Felix glanced down at his hands and then at the desk._

_“I know you work hard for me, you and father both.”_

_“It’s a new avenue. We can’t very well leave you to turn into some shambling corpse, can we? They are pretty unsightly.”_

_Again, Felix smiled, though with regret. _

_“I’m going to die, though.”_

_For once in his life, Dorian was struck speechless. He opened his mouth and closed it. “Don’t say that,” he heard himself answer, eventually, even though it was the thought that had so long echoed through his own head already, and he felt daft as soon as the words were out of his mouth. They were powerless. It wasn’t ‘you’re wrong’ or ‘we’ll find a way’. There was no conviction because Dorian had none. Felix seemed to feel it; he gave him a thin smile._

_“But it’s true,” he said. “Maybe there’s a cure for the blight, but it hasn’t been found in all these centuries and I doubt it will be before it takes me. I’ve tried to talk to my father, but... he won’t hear it. I guess I understand.” He shook his head. “It must be difficult to give up on your child. However, I know it’s better if I learn to accept what’s coming. It would be better for him, too.”_

_It would have been easier to think of an answer had Felix not spoken of his father with such gentle understanding, or of his own plight with such courage._

_“I wish I could tell you that I believe you’re wrong,” Dorian admitted._

_Felix looked almost relieved._

_“I know. I appreciate everything you did for me and I understand my father’s feelings, too. I know he wanted to be there to protect my mother and me. It’s not like I don’t have such thoughts... I’ve wished I could turn back time to before the attack, before – everything.” He frowned. “It brings up the strangest ideas. Imagine, maybe if my grandfather had succeeded to kill me when I was young, my parents might have had another child, a proper mage like everyone wished for. My mother would still be alive and my family would be happy. Or maybe if I’d been better with a blade, I could have defended us against the attack. If I were a real mage, we might not even have travelled that way, but been safe here in Minrathous working on my parents’ studies. There’s a hundred ways things could have gone differently... but in the end, this is reality.”_

_Dorian nodded, feeling that Felix was spilling words that perhaps he hadn’t dared to say before his suffering father or anyone else in the house. It was not very becoming, the idea that you had given up when people were still fighting around you – even if you were the only one with clear sight._

_“The truth is, I could die this year and I’ve barely seen either of you for months because my father is so determined to find a cure that likely doesn’t even exist. If I must die – we all do, don’t we? For me, it will be a bit sooner, but no one stays forever,” Felix said thoughtfully. “I don’t want to waste my remaining time lying in bed talking to servants about powders and poultices.”_

_Dorian took a gulp from his wine and groped for something to say in the face of so much friendly reason. Even with the alcohol, his throat wouldn’t open up again._

_“Right,” he ground out, finally, slamming the goblet down on his desk and throwing himself onto his feet. “We’re going, then.”_

_“Going?” Felix asked, looking up with surprise._

_“Into town. To a tavern. Causing a little trouble. I’m taking the blame if your father finds out.” He grinned, though it felt tight, almost painful. “I mean, I know this is Tevinter, so your love affair with calculus is actually very scandalous, but I can’t let you die thinking that that counts as true rebellion.”_

_Felix laughed._

_“Lead the way.”_

_But before he let Dorian walk out the door, he touched his elbow, and, when Dorian turned, closed him in his arms. It was a quick and firm hug, cradling the back of Dorian’s head._

_“Thank you,” he said before he slid out into the dark hallway._

Even thinking back now, Dorian had the distinct feeling that Felix had wanted to comfort him. That was the drawback to having a good man as your friend – if even as he was dying he was still the one trying to ease your pain, there was no one left to hold your hand when it finally came to the inevitable.

It was strange to realise that despite Felix’s acceptance, despite what Dorian had seen in the future that never was and the lectures he’d given Alexius, in the end, he was not truly prepared to let go of Felix tonight. There was no choice, though. _This is reality._

Dorian dragged the chair towards the wall and leaned back against it. He’d been awake for the better part of two days, helping Vivienne refine the spell, and exhaustion was deep in his bones, growing heavier with melancholy. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment. Random memories of Felix flitted through his mind. There was the cautious but friendly way he’d addressed him when they first met, seizing Dorian up, waiting for the inevitable barbed comments about his lack of magical talent that so many others liked to remind him of; and how grateful and easily affectionate he’d been when Dorian wiped his concern away with a few jokes on the matter that proved he cared little. He could still taste the treats Felix would bring him late at night, small honey pastries and candied hazelnuts and sometimes even leftovers from supper, when Dorian had been too wrapped up in his studies to remember to show his face at the table. He remembered watching with wonder as Felix filled pages with rows of numbers as arcane as any magic calculations Dorian had ever seen, lost in his world with passionate abandon. One evening when Dorian had experimented with illusion spells, Felix had watched him create flowers and forests and cities in the living room and Dorian had almost drained his reserves to the last just to impress him, each image grander than the last, until Felix was gaping with surprise, all the while Dorian pretended he was pulling the spells out of his sleeve without difficulty and delighted in his wonder. Then there was that night, after Felix had come to speak with him about his death, when he’d taken Felix down into the city as promised and given him too much to drink, until Felix was clinging to his shoulder to walk. He was a happy drunk, smiling at everything Dorian said, smiling at him for no reason at all. Dorian remembered making fun of him. “Not even the blight hanging over your head ruins your mood. I wish I could have your temper.” Felix had shrugged. He never took Dorian’s teasing to heart, especially not when it had that bitter edge to it. He seemed to know that Dorian didn’t mean to hurt him and so he refused to be wounded.

The scenes and words faded away, then, into scraps of sounds and pictures. Felix’s arms still felt tight around him years later as he thought back to that evening. When Dorian had left, he’d only clasped Felix’s shoulder. He wished he’d been a better friend, or, failing that, at least a more daring man; he’d wanted one kiss if he could not have more. Even if Felix had been in love with him, it would have been doomed, of course, but as Felix had said, they all had to die eventually. In this world, you could only scrape up what time you had with the people you loved until they walked into the shadows or you did.

Dorian realised he’d only been half-awake when a sudden movement next to him startled him back to full presence. He turned around to stare at Felix, but he laid just as he had before, barely breathing.

Probably his imagination – wishful thinking, to be exact. Dorian reached out and placed his hand on Felix’s cool forehead. He hoped that at least he wasn’t in pain.

Felix sat up straight with a start, drawing in a ragged breath like a man who’d broke the surface of a lake with water already in his throat. Dorian was on his feet so fast that the chair clattered to the ground. Felix’s eyes were wide, deep and dark, the clouded white that had spread over them in the last fortnight completely dissipated. He seemed to be choking on his own breath, convulsing as he coughed.

_Healing potion_. Vivienne had told him that if Felix should wake, it would be imperative to feed him healing potion as soon as possible because the spell she’d performed would have gotten rid of the taint by attacking it, and since it was already deep in his flesh and blood, there was little telling how much collateral damage it would do to his body in the process. Dorian shot across the room and grabbed three of the glass bottles, throwing two on the blanket before ripping the cork out of another one with his teeth and spitting it on the ground. He grabbed Felix by the back of the neck. Luckily, even through the panicked confusion, as Felix’s eyes flickered to him and recognised who had grabbed him, he grew slack and allowed Dorian to force the neck of the bottle into his mouth, gagging on the potion as it came down his throat, but swallowing it down between laboured breaths.

Dorian only relaxed his grip when he had force-fed Felix all three of the bottles. By that point, Felix was choking up the thick red liquid, had it dripping over his chin, eyes watering from coughing as he leaned into Dorian to keep himself upright.

“Felix?” Dorian dared ask.

Felix turned his gaze towards him. He rose a shaking hand to his mouth to wipe off the excess potion. Dorian grabbed a handful of blanket and helped him.

“Not my least favourite look for a man, but not with potion if possible,” he murmured.

The noise that emerged from Felix throat was an aborted, bubbling chuckle. He let his head fall back against Dorian’s arm, trying to calm his breathing. It seemed like a good sign to Dorian, something someone with a modicum of consciousness might try to do. Since even his brain, so used to the task, could not rack up another pallid joke to try to gloss over the fear that was churning his stomach, he kept quiet as he waited for Felix to compose himself. Holding him up was easier than it should have been; he’d grown so thin with the blight sickness.

Finally, Felix opened his dark eyes again and smiled at Dorian.

Dorian didn’t know what madness possessed him, or if it was just the panic and exhaustion colliding into a final idiotic decision, but he leaned forward and kissed Felix’s red-stained lips.

Felix did not move his head, mouth half-open, his slack hand resting on Dorian’s thigh. Whether his was acquiescence or a lack of strength to resist, Dorian could not say.

Heart pounding, Dorian sat back.

“I should get Vivienne.”

-

Dorian left the care of his friend to Vivienne, who was more skilled in healing magic than him, while he hovered in the adjacent room, waiting nervously and in the meantime finding ever new insults to chastise himself with. How could he have forced a kiss on his best friend when he was barely clinging to life? It defied believe that he could be so dumb.

Finally, Vivienne emerged from the room and gave him an arch smile, gesturing towards the open door. Though Dorian wasn’t sure if Felix wanted to see him, he stepped through.

Someone had opened the window onto the early grey light of a cold morning, allowing the stale air to escape. Pillows were bunched up behind Felix’s back. He sat straight in the bed, sweat-soaked and pale as snow, but smiling. In his bony hands, he held a wooden bowl with some green-flecked mush and a spoon.

“She said I am going to be alright,” Felix said. His voice was still faltering and uneven, as if he was in the middle of a bad cold, but he didn’t slur his words.

“I am so glad to hear it,” Dorian answered, feeling it with all his heart.

“If you hadn’t asked me to do this, I never might have. After three years, I was done trying. I owe you my life – again, since you also prevented the other future.” He smiled briefly. “Don’t kiss me again right now, though. I’m sure it’s healthy, but this elfroot porridge tastes vile.”

Though the blow came softened through Felix’s light-hearted humour, Dorian could not help but wince.

“I have to apologise. I don’t know what I was thinking, Felix.”

“Ah. That’s too bad,” Felix said after a moment, averting his eyes to glance out of the window.

He would end this day with a heart attack at this rate, for how often it had jumped and sped and stumbled tonight, Dorian thought. Slowly, he dragged the chair closer.

“I could think about it a lot if you wanted me to,” he said carefully.

Felix turned back with a smile and Dorian could not help but lean in for another kiss. This time, Felix’s arm went up around his shoulders. He opened his mouth for Dorian, yielding yet sure in his movements, his hand grasping onto him.

“You’re right, the porridge tastes abysmal,” Dorian said, grimacing as he leaned back, the sour remains of it on his tongue.

Felix laughed.

“I did warn you,” he said.

“Still worth it,” Dorian claimed, regarding him closely. “I never knew you had an interest in men.”

“That’s not surprising. I _was_ trying to hide my crush on you, since you never seemed interested in me that way.”

The idea that Felix had been secretly mooning over him was absolutely stunning. And here Dorian had been thinking he was good at noticing these things.

“I didn’t want your father to chase me out because he found his only son in my bed.” Dorian gave a brief smile. “I should have just risked it.”

“You did run into a lot of trouble before you came to us. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get kicked out of the house.”

Of course Felix wouldn’t. He always found a way to understand every stupid, cowardly thing Dorian did.

“I didn’t _run_ into trouble, I _got_ into it. Very active participant, me,” he joked.

Felix grinned. It was still so easy to talk to him, Dorian thought, as he watched him choke down some more elfroot porridge. Even when Dorian had been the strange, scandal-prone stranger his father had dragged home from the whorehouse, Felix and him had fallen quickly into conversation, jested, spoke into the late hours of night, and when Felix had prepared to die and had to go up against his own father to do it in peace, still he was the same man only wiser and even kinder. They could speak as naturally of the future of Tevinter as they could laugh about the unfortunate haircut of some Orlesian noble. Dorian had spent much time without Felix, of course, but the idea that he would never hear that voice or that laugh again gripped him with such sudden fear and simultaneous crushing relief he almost felt a flicker of understanding for the elder Alexius’ deeds.

“Dorian?”

A hand came up to his arm. Dorian jolted, looking at Felix, whose face was full of concern. It took him a moment to realise that at some point, the tears that had been threatening to come for days had finally fallen.

“Well, this could ruin my reputation around here,” he murmured roughly, dragging the back of his hand over his face.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Felix said with a smile and put his hand in the back of Dorian’s head. With a gentle tug, he pulled Dorian’s face against his shoulder, allowing him to hide his face in the crook of his neck before he put his arm around him.

“Thank you. Please don’t say anything to me, either,” Dorian muttered. “I feel foolish enough.”

He could feel Felix’s chest vibrating as he chuckled, pulling Dorian closer with the little strength he had.

“I missed you, Dorian,” he said, after a moment.

Simple truths, the sort that could be so forcefully thrown back in your face, had always come easy to Felix. Dorian didn’t know where he took the courage.

“You should stay with the Inquisition for now. Recuperate.” He drew a deep breath and sat up, shaking his head to steady himself, before he took Felix’s face in his hands. “When we have managed to save the world, we can go back to Tevinter together.”

“I don’t know that I have many skills to offer the Inquisition, but perhaps Lady Montilyet needs a bookkeeper.”

Making Felix balance the books was akin to letting a master portrait artist paint a wall white. Still, Dorian nodded his head. Felix would want to try to find a way to help whatever Dorian said, anyway.

“Just do me a favour and try to stay in bed long enough that I don’t have to collect you from the foot of some staircase you fell down during a fainting spell.”

“Don’t worry. I think I have caused everyone enough concern with my illness for now.” He gave a small frown. “I should go speak to my father, too...”

“In time. For now, you can finish your terrible meal and lie back down,” Dorian said, kissing Felix on the forehead.

Felix settled into Dorian’s arms, warm and alive, dragging his thumb over the back of Dorian’s hand before he picked up the spoon again. Dorian breathed in and out and, for the first time in longer than he remembered, felt something like peace.


End file.
